“Better not do it alone, youngsters,” advised Donald. “I’d show you, myself, if I were going to be home, but I can’t wait.”
Donald was in college this year, but, being so near, he often came home to lunch on Saturday, and sometimes spent Sunday there also.
“Of course we can do it,” returned Cricket, confidently. “We’ve read the directions a million times already, and I pretty nearly know them by heart. Listen: ‘Open one of the developer powders, then put the contents (two chemicals) into the beaker and fill it up to the brim with water. Stir, till dissolved, with wooden stirring spoon. Next take—’”
“Spare us,” begged Marjorie. “We’re willing to take your knowledge for granted.”
“We can use the linen closet for a dark room,” said Eunice.
“By no manner of means,” put in mamma promptly. “I don’t fancy having every sheet and pillow-case I own deluged with chemicals. You can have the bathroom closet, though, if you’ll promise to put everything you take out of it back very carefully. But children, I decidedly think you should wait for papa or Don to show you how.”
“Do let them, mamma,” advised Marjorie. “Of course they will make a frightful mess, and ruin the whole roll, but they will have the experience.”
“The idea!” cried Eunice, much injured. “We’ve done everything right thus far—or almost right,” with a sudden, guilty recollection of the double exposure of the first film.
“Almost everything!” laughed Donald. “Considering you only have to aim the thing and press the button, it would be strange if you hadn’t. Did you aim the wrong end of it and try to take something out of the little back window?”
“Of course we didn’t,” said Eunice and Cricket, in an indignant breath. Then they exchanged guilty, conscious glances.